Loosing Control
by Sound Of A Crescendo
Summary: On her death bed, Mercedes leaves Albert with a whisper of the past that changes everything. Count/Albert - Book/Anime Merge


Story Summary: On her death bed, Mercedes leaves Albert with a whisper of the past that changes everything. Count/Albert

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Chapter One: **Marseilles- The Arrival**

Albert would never forget the scent of his mother. That soft soothing scent of some strange flower he had never come to identify. It was sweet, but yet not too strong. She had always smelt of it, and thus her room smelt of it as well. The aroma had always soothed the young man, offering him peace and protection from the happenings of the world around him. It offered ignorant bliss to early life, and now it would offer him so much more.

He eased himself down onto the soft sheets of his mother's bed, blue eyes taking in the fallen details of her once beautiful skin. His mother had aged more in the last few months then she had in all of her life. He was sickened by the state of her health and left utterly helpless to offer her any cure. _"Albert..."_ His dark musings were distracted, and he lifted his gaze to meet the eyes of his mother. Even on her death bed, she held that caring light in her eyes-- but yet there was something more. A deeper look of sadness that he had seen in he before. He doubted it was due to her sickness that she held such a look. Oh no, he had seen that look in her before; when she would gaze at the sea, alone on her own. He had never thought to ask her what was bothering her, and now it would be too late.

_"Yes mother?"_ He voiced, lifting his hand to reach for her own. He closed his fingers around the frail limb offering a soft squeeze to show her he was there, he would always be there.

_"You look... so much like your father."_ Mercedes whispered out, her free hand shook as it lifting to brush through his short wavy hair. Albert was convinced now that his mother was surely loosing all touches on reality. He looked nothing like the Comte de Morcerf, and personally thought he held more of his mother's appearances. _"He should... have gotten to know you." _Her voice was weak, and it took a shuddered breath for her to finish the sentence. Albert swallowed hard now, perhaps she was not so far gone-- Albert hadn't ever truly felt loved by his father and it was sore spot to him.

_"He is busy mother-- it is not his fault."_ Albert voiced softly, still holding a shred of disillusion in his mind.

_"Albert... There is something you must--"_ Her words were interrupted with a cough, sharply racking her small frame. Tears slowly came to the young viscounts eyes, and he reached for the cloth by her bed. He wrung out the water it had been sitting in, and gently whipped away the blood from her lips. Flipping the cloth, he gently stroked the material over her forehead. She was still fevered, and horribly so.

_"Shhhh, rest mother. Save your strength."_ He started, only to be surprised by the hard look she gave him.

_"There is no need... to save my strength Albert, I am dieing."_ She voiced, brown eyes sliding closed. Mercedes had long since come to truth with this fact, but yet she held onto life for one reason only. _"...and there is something, you must know."_ she continued, before lifting a hand to hush the boy's lips as he tried to further complain.

_"It was 15 years ago... that you were born. But it was months before that I married Fernand. Months that no one bothered to take into account was not enough time for your conception..."_ As she spoke, Mercedes seemed to get even weaker, as if speaking about such a topic made her sick. _"This may burden you more then it may help you... But Fernand is not the man I loved, Albert... The man I loved is your father..."_ There was an uncomfortable silence after those words, filled only with the soft wheeze of a mother's lungs. Wide crystalline blue eyes stared down into the murky brown depths of his mother's eyes. A look of horror was over the boy's features, to know such a secret strut deep into his heart with a pang of guilt, and disgrace.

_"The... Comte De Morcerf... is not my father?"_ He whispered out, in obvious disbelief. His mother was sick--surely such a thing could not be true.

_"He is not... Albert-- Do not look at me in such a way... I was engaged to your father, when he was taken, and murdered..."_ She voiced, eyes drawing heavy in obvious pain. Such a deep sadness that Albert now knew the cause for. His mother had never loved her husband...

_"Y-you're sick mother..."_ Albert was desperate for answers now, and the tone was frantic in his voice. He would not believe it. It was just a fathom of his mother's hallucinations. He drew back from the bed, nearly stumbling at his haste to get to his feet.

_"Edmond Dantes... Was your father's name..."_ Albert barely heard his mother's voice as it called out after him. He was frightened and only escape was on his mind.

--

The burial of Mercedies had been short and simple, and none of the on lookers would view the tears in a young man's eyes as strange. Albert stood stiff beside his mother's husband, unable to neither look him in eye nor listen to his words as he spoke about his mother. All of it was fake to him now, horribly fake and filled him with a dull ache. He cried for the loss of his mother, for the dark secret she had forced onto him, and for the father he would never know. He came to the realization that he was glad his mother had told him. It answered so many questions for him, but yet left so many more to be asked. He learned fast, that asking about the name Dantes was not a good idea. Fernand had caught wind of his asking the servants of their knowledge of such a man, and the rebuke had been far from pleasant. Albert had merely told Fernand that it was a name his mother had voiced before her death, and he was curious as to who it was. Traitor and dishonourable where but a few of the kinder words his father had associated to the name, and Albert was forayed from inquiring further.

It was on the night of his mother's burial, which a young man left behind a life he had known since birth. It was on that final toss of dirt that he turned from the only family he had known, and left on foot. Fernand had stared after him oddly, but it was taken for granted that Albert was a soft kid. Many suspected he was merely going to morn further. But when the boy did not turn up for their departure back to France, the comte de morcerf was surprisingly unworried. None had heard of his son's whereabouts, and his presence was needed back as soon as possible. For appearance sakes, servants were left behind to search for Albert. But none would find him.

Marseilles was a beautiful place, and it was the last tie Albert had to his mother. It was here that everything started, and it was here it seemed to end. His mother had requested to be buried in her old home town, and it was a request he had personally forced to be filled. Dark eyes gazed out over the waters, and the ships that were docked. He would find out what had happened to his real father, He owned this much to his mother and to himself.

_"Albert."_ The voice startled the boy, and light blue eyes turned to gaze into the mix-matched orbs of a man he had never expected to see again. Dark blue curls twisted in the wind, dancing around the pale features of a handsome figure_. "You've worried quite a few people with this disappearance of yours."_ The Count voiced softly, stepping closer to the younger man who stared back at him with a haunted gaze.

_"Yet, you've found me."_ Albert voiced, turning away from the extravagance that flowed off of the aristocrat behind him. The Count reminded too much of the lie he had lived. _"But, I do no wish to be found."_ The younger whispered, almost wistfully as he watched the icy waters below caressing over the rocky shore. An eye brow arched over a golden eye, and with a graceful movement the aristocrat stepped closer to the other man. There was a silence that stretched between them, only the gentle cawing of seagulls over head and the roar of the ocean below breaking the solitude between them. After a movement, a rustle of clothing was heard and The Count eased himself down onto the dusty ground. He seemed to ignore the fact he was ruining a perfectly good suit, and instead lifting his gloved finger tips to rest on Albert's shoulder.

The younger male leaned into the reassurance from the older, seeming to draw some semblance of comfort. It was there that they stayed, watching the sky as it darkened with shades of vibrant oranges and delicate pinks. Watched as the tide rose higher and seemed to reach out for them with foamy hands; clawing up the cliff wall below them. Even as the air around them cooled with the evenings breeze, they remained in perfect silence. The Count tilted his head ever so slowly as the sun slipped below the horizon. His mismatched eyes gazing down at the male beside him with curiosity. Albert had been his key pawn-- the perfect tie to a string of vengeance. Yet, the child was so emotionally driven and friendly that it frighteningly reminded him of a young sailor he had known. It reminded him of a man he had not seen in decades, and a man that had indeed been murdered and betrayed. The Count could no longer think of Edmond Dantes as someone he had once been. Instead, the man had died someplace with in that prison and left in its rebirth a broken man thriving only on revenge.

He studied the soft contours of Albert's features, ones lulled into a sleepy daze by the warmth the count's thick cape offered against the wind. Blue tinted lips lifted upwards into a strange expression that had not captured him in years, something he would have rather remained dead. The aristocrat could not deny, Albert was his mother's son-- they shared so many similarities. Yet, it was not the soft brown eyes of Mercedies that flickered open to gaze at him-- but instead a soft shade of blue that he never truly noticed before. Such a familiar shade, but yet he had no memory of where he had seen it before. There was a dull thought that it could have come from Fernand-- but, no. The Count would never forget those dark eyes that were capable of such betrayal-- Albert's eyes were far too light and soft.

If there had ever been guilt in his heart for his plans of revenge, The Count had never known its presence until this moment. The Aristocrat watched as those sleep woven eyes slid closed, and the younger gifted him with the knowledge that he trusted him. One did not simply allow themselves to fall asleep in the arms of someone they did not trust. A realisation that this piece of Mercidies was resting against him was a strange comfort to the older man. He would be lying, if he admitted that the women's death did not send remorse through his body. She would never know... With a heavy breath, he tilted his head and placed a soft kiss onto the younger forehead.

_"I'm glad you found me."_ The words were mumbled into the air between them, breaking the hours of silence that had elapsed. The Count drew back, not having expected the other to still be conscious. The mild alarm slipped away, and he bowed his head further till their foreheads met. A veil of blue curls slid down to shadow their faces both sets of eyes sliding closed. The close presence of the aristocrat seemed to offer Albert warmth, and the younger shifted his body nudging himself deeper into hold against the cool ocean wind. The older man was hesitant, unsure of how to react in a situation like this. It had been years since he himself had been comforted-- or even gave comfort. After a moment he followed his instincts and allowed his arms to shift down to wrap around Albert's body and pull him to his chest. The embrace felt a bit awkward, but Albert seemed not to notice as he wrapped an arm around the counts shoulders, and his other hand pressed to the man's chest.

_"Likewise."_ The count breathed out, head bowing till his chin rested on the crown of Albert's head. Somewhere in the heavens, a brown eyed woman was smiling.


End file.
